


a symphony in silence

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Crying, F/M, Hair Pulling, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Post Game, THAT SOUNDS KINKY WAIT NO, Uncomfortable Conversations, ahem, argument, like stress hair pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: everything is still





	a symphony in silence

the air had the bitter taste of instability, reflecting off of the mind of the lost soul occupying the empty room. thoughts turned to static and desaturated into fog; a storm formed from the collision of two contrasting thoughts. in the middle of it all was shuichi saihara, who fled a gathering of ‘friends’ to find some silence and peace.

normally, he thought, kaito would come after him. whenever he felt unconfident, kaito would find his way to him. he would approach him with no restraint, offering a pep talk and kindness. 

not anymore.

after all the participants of the 53rd killing game woke up, team danganronpa forced them to remain in the same pseudo-psychiatric building together, until their mental state clears them to leave. that’s what they said, but all the participants knew that it was only to break them down, to leave them trapped as they slowly gained traits of their old personality back.

when team danganronpa explained the circumstances the participants were in, the mention of integration of their game and real personalities was omitted. it was expected, of course; they were going to regain their real personality eventually. the pain that this brought, however, couldn’t have been anticipated.

it was easier for some than others. ryoma was still serious and dark, like he was in the killing game. rantaro, too, hadn’t changed much, albeit he wasn’t trusting of anybody, including his therapist. maki was still antisocial and aggressive, but expressed her caring side more, and forced herself to be hopeful.

for others, like shuichi, it was a drastic change. korekiyo had to fight off disgust and self-loathing at his incestuous game self, while kaito desperately tried to be hopeful and kind, while his real self was ruthless. he delivers punches and insults as if they were kisses; compliments sound sour and fake. shuichi can’t even imagine the hell kaito puts himself through.

shuichi didn’t know who he was. the detective who always searched for the truth clashed with the shuichi that dreamt of killing and dying every night, and sometimes he’d wake up  _ happy. _

he felt broken, reliant on himiko and maki, who he developed a natural bond with, but alone in the end. maybe that was part of the reason he isolated himself in the room; he was always destined to be alone, so he brought solitude to himself willingly.

“what are you doing?”

but of course, solitude couldn’t last long. shuichi turned around to see kaede, an apathetic look on her face. her voice was cynical, and shuichi held no hope that she would be the same as her killing game self. 

“a-ah, kaede,” shuichi’s voice was empty and quiet. despite the changes in kaede, shuichi still loves her. 

“that is my name, yes,” she closed the door behind her and moved closer to shuichi. she sat on a table, looking at shuichi with a critical eye, “rantaro noticed you left the movie night. some people were concerned.”

“were you?” shuichi knew the answer.

“i expected it. you’re incredibly unstable, that brainless movie probably scared you.”

“so why did you come after me?”

she shrugged, tracing the table with her finger, “the movie was boring, and some people thought that my presence would help you more,” she rolled her eyes.

“but you think that’s stupid,” shuichi deadpanned, trying to contain the rising emotion in his chest.

kaede paused, carefully considering her words, “i’m different now. so are you.”

“but do you want to be like your killing game self?” shuichi’s voice was pleading, “at least a little?”

she laughed humorlessly, “who wouldn’t like to have ultimate pianist kaede akamatsu over a cynical bitch like myself? it’s not that easy. you know that.”

“of course i do. i… i just thought-“

“and you thought wrong,” there was something defeated in her expression. 

shuichi blinked tears from his eyes, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t,” surprisingly, kaede’s face shifted from defeat to… sadness? shuichi rarely saw emotion from kaede; she always hid it with scathing sarcasm and biting remarks.

he couldn’t help himself, so he asked the question that was eternally present in his mind: “... are you cynical and tough because you need to be, or because you are?”

she didn’t reply.

“kaede?” against his better judgement, shuichi attempted to put a hand on kaede shoulder. to his shock, however, kaede didn’t move away, or look at him in disgust.

instead, she laughed.

“i am not the kaede you knew and i will never be that. just get it through your fucking head, shuichi, i am not the person you loved.”

shuichi’s heart shattered at those words, impaling his lungs as he struggled to breathe, struggled to understand that she was right. she always was. the kaede akamatsu he knew was gone. the person in front of him was nothing but a reminder of who she used to be.

the sad thing was, shuichi’s first thoughts at that revelation was  _ killherkillherkillherkillerkillerkiller.  _

nothing ever changes. his first instinct would always be death death death death death-

he moves his hand from her shoulder, instead intertwining his fingers in his hair, trying to imagine something other than wrapping fingers around a dagger or rope.

“shuichi.”

“what?”

kaede sighed, hopping off the table and moving closer to shuichi, “i’m sorry-”

“you have nothing to apologize for,” his voice was cold.

“i’m… i’m trying, shuichi. y’know, maki gave me an aggressive pep talk yesterday.  _ maki.  _ it was almost surreal,” kaede laughed breathily and shook her head, “anyway. she told me that we need to get our shit together, that we need to start having hope, and that i have to do this-”

“for who?” shuichi pulled at his hair as he spoke, shaking, “who are you trying for? yourself? that’s bullshit. you’re doing this for the others, aren’t you. you are trying  _ so fucking hard _ to be all kind and sympathetic, but you know that’s not who you are. it’s easier to have no faith in us; we’re all broken. to you, we’re not your friends, are we-”

“shuichi,” her voice seemed apathetic, but the detective instincts in him knew that she was desperate.

“you change every minute! you act like you’re strong, you’re better than us, and then you turn the tables! and then you suddenly want to be a better person,” shuichi didn’t realize that he had backed up into a corner, and he began to slowly sink to the floor, “and everyone is doing the same thing! everyone is changing, everyone is like that, but why does it hurt when it’s you, kaede?”

“shuichi, stop-”

“why did team danganronpa do this? why did they put shells of humans together, why did you think we could escape and be friends?” a tear fell down his face, and it almost felt like a bloodstain. “i can’t trust you anymore! i can’t trust anybody here because i don’t know who everyone is going to be, i don’t know how to handle the memories! i...” he trailed off, suddenly feeling numb.

“... are you done?”

kaede’s voice was empty, and shuichi’s eyes unwillingly met hers. his heart froze when he saw that she was crying.

“yeah. i’m done.”

“good,” kaede slowly moved to the floor, sitting in front of shuichi. she tapped her leg and, after a brief period of silence, she spoke, “do you feel any better?”

“what?”

“after getting that all off your chest. do you feel better?”

shuichi tried to speak, but his voice failed him. he just nodded, to which kaede sighed, “great. you’re right, y’know? team danganronpa fucked us over. and... and my personality and attitude changes a lot. i know. i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” shuichi’s voice was raspy, and he realized then that he was crying more than he thought, “it was a dumb thing to say. we’re all like that. i just...”

“... you just want me to be different,” kaede looked at shuichi for a reply, but continued when she got nothing back, “i get it. the truth-- the actual truth, not what i  _ say  _ the truth is-- is that i want to be friends with you all. i want to be the kaede akamatsu everyone loved in the game. i dream of her every night, y’know? i want to be kind and charismatic, and… oh fuck it, i want to be your friend too,” her face expressed honesty, and shuichi knew there was no reason she wouldn’t be genuine, but…

“i can’t help but feel like you wanting to get close to me is out of obligation.”

she hesitated before answering, “honestly? a part of it is. i know that old kaede used to love you, shuichi. and i know that i want to. and i know that there’s something between us. whether it’s love or not, i’m not sure. whether you feel it or not, i’m not sure. but there’s something. can you accept that?” instead of her usual harsh tone, her last question seemed… warm. safe. shuichi missed that.

“i... i can try. we can try,” he said softly.

kaede gave him a smile, and it seemed as radiant and beautiful as it was in the killing game, “nothing is going to be perfect or great. who knows how compatible we are now. but…” she sighed, “dammit, i used to be more articulate that this, huh? used to be able to phrase things.”

shuichi shook his head and spoke before kaede could question him, “we may not need words. we can just adapt in silence.”

the girl in front of him stayed silent, as if complying with shuichi’s suggestion. while silence could be suffocating, now there was an odd sort of peace. kaede’s eyes still had a glint of desperation and her resting face looked critical, and shuichi knew that he looked like a mess with a strand of hair wrapped around his fingers, but maybe that’s okay.

there was hope. 

and kaede reached her hand out-- slowly, almost as if she was scared-- and intertwined her fingers with shuichi’s. all they needed was a piano, maybe, and clair de lune in the background. 

but maybe they didn’t need that. nothing has to be a mirage of what it was before. maybe things could stay the way they were.

“we can write our symphony in silence,” it was as if she heard his thoughts. he squeezed her fingers, and reciprocation followed. 

shuichi saihara was a broken detective; trying to find truth in the recovery that shapeshifted. he fell asleep every day surrounded by images of death and gore, but the true nightmare lies in the fact that everything was alive but so, so still.

kaede akamatsu was a former pianist. she wanted to grasp the hope and brightness she once had, but instead built a wall of armor and pretended she left the killing game with no scars. her old self was a monster under the bed, but also her guardian angel.

(maybe she was watching over kaede and shuichi now, smiling and sheltering the two with celestial wings)

neither of them were perfect, or fit together like puzzle pieces. but sometimes a symphony has clashing chords, an offset rhythm.

and the melody shifted to the second verse.

**Author's Note:**

> hi
> 
> this is a different post-game headcanon than other fics i've written, but i figured it would be a good way to show the dynamic. it may be a tad out of character, but honestly that's the point of the fic. or maybe that's an excuse, who knows lmao. i hope you like the fic; my inspiration was non existent but i wanted to write this anyway.
> 
> i'm bad at writing awkward conversations, but i feel like it's important that these two aren't going to be perfect, but they're trying and they can make it work. whether or not i expressed that in an overly pretentious way is up to you
> 
> i hope i did them justice in any regard.
> 
> comments are really appreciated, and if you have any requests leave them down below too. if you have critiques as well that's cool. have a good day, everyone


End file.
